


act of godhood

by peachyteabuck



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cum Play, F/M, Face-Sitting, Mentions of Past Consensual Sexual Experiences, Multi, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Spitroasting, Strap-Ons, Temperature Play, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteabuck/pseuds/peachyteabuck
Summary: after you refuse to tell both of them which is the better dom, bucky and natasha take matters into their own hands





	1. act of godhood

You feel like caught prey. Cornered, hogtied, ready to be devoured. This was your own damn fault, you had no one else to blame.

Lying on the corner of Natasha Romanoff’s large bed, your legs are free to writhe and kick while your hands are bound above your head, effectively turning you into a captured dog with some illusion of freedom.

Your mouth isn’t gagged, but it is covered. Tony had been experimenting with a bunch of different masks for Bucky in different fabrics and colors, trying to make them even more high-tech than whatever Hydra originally provided him with, and at one point had mismeasured his face dimensions. That made one set of masks (about five or six, all exactly the same in their fatal flaw) too small, and therefore useless to the wide-jawed supersoldier.

Still, you found a use for it. Even in their inadequate size, they still silenced any sound that escaped your lips was absorbed into the fabric and easily expelled. This made for a great hide and seek cheat, and an even better sex toy.

Bucky stays on one side of the bed corners while Natasha stands at the end. Both are staring down at you, mouths watering, cock and pussy aching. All for you.

You mewl, a desperate attempt for physical contact. How did I end up here?

It’s a rhetorical question to your broader consciousness. You know the answer.

You had been dommed before, both by the Winter Soldier and Black Widow. Albeit, you never got your brains fucked out by both at the same time.

One day, due to a very unfortunate laundry day mishap, they had found out about your sexcapades with the opposite assassin. They confronted you in the large laundry room, the hum of the machines almost drowning out the sound of your heart beating wildly against your ear drums. Whether you were screwed in a good way or a bad way, you were still screwed.

Both demanded to know which was better, which brought you more pleasure, who would you choose if you had to? What about this kink? Did you perform this specific sex act with the other?

You felt like a guilty criminal, one not very good at keeping secrets. You feverishly tried to calm them both down, to stop the nerve-rattling line of questioning. “Neither of you is necessarily ‘better’ than-”

“Bullshit,” Natasha scoffed. She stood tall, full-on “fight me, I fucking dare you” mode. The last time you saw this was when your ass was about to get torn up with a riding crop while you suspending from her maroon ceiling, the time before that, when Steve decided to go off on his own during a mission without wearing an earpiece.

You continued despite their shared glares. “You’re both, each of you is completely different! I can’t compare you two!”

Then Bucky spoke, voice low and commanding. “What do you mean…different?”

You shrugged lightly, still holding the laundry basket that mostly held your clothes, but also had Bucky’s black boxers and Natasha’s black panties. Geez, what is it with hot, scary people and black underwear?

If only you had just given their underwear back to them, or made them pick it up, like a normal sub. But no, your never-ending hunger for praise and to be good just had to manifest itself into you being an unreasonably nice bottom. God, next time you were just keeping it like a trophy.

You shivered, them both still staring you down. You now understood why criminals confess so damn quickly when they’re the ones questioning. “Natasha likes me, like, totally immobile. She likes to give or take whatever she wants, when she wants it. No word from me. Buck, on the other hand, likes for me to be brattier…likes me to put up a fight…likes to praise me…lay it on thick…” Your voice got quieter as you continued, ability to stand up to them withering away with every inhale.

You thought she was about to snap at you, but instead she turned to Bucky.

“You’re a brat tamer?” She exclaimed loudly, and you flinched; she’s talking a little too loudly for a common area.

Bucky shrugged. It was less tense than yours, though. That one wasn’t defensive or scared, it was relaxed. “I like that feeling of success, let me live my life in peace. What, you don’t like a little chase? Don’t like the feeling of accomplishment when a mouthy little brat finally gives into you?”

Natasha huffed. “No, I don’t. I like to be in charge, that’s why I dom you idiot. Plain and simple. If I wanted someone to back talk me, I’d go talk to one of you petty boys about following orders, or not being little bitches when something goes wrong on missions, or…”

You snorted, and it reminded the two of them that you were, in fact, still there.

Natasha reacted first, because of course she did. “What was that, pet?”

You locked eyes with her, your whole body going cold. Oh fuck. You just fucked up big time.

“Nothing, mistress,” you whispered, voice tight. It’s a last-ditch effort to avoid trouble. The problem is, it most likely won’t do shit for your acting out of hand. Nor will it do shit for your ass, which has just recently healed of the deep purple-green bruises and bloody scratches that criss-crossed your back, butt, and lower thighs.

Bucky’s thick arms crossed across his expansive chest. “She calls you ‘mistress?’ I feel like you’d be more of a ‘mommy’ type of person, Romanoff.”  
  
Natasha didn’t turn back to face him as she responded. Instead, her eyes raked your body. God, you felt so fucking small.

“Doesn’t have the same…” she tilted her head, scanning you while she searched for the right word. “Feel.” Her long pause felt like centuries, eyes still locked onto you. “What does she call you?”

Bucky stepped closer, only adding to the feeling of helplessness. He traced your plump lower lip, pulling it from between your teeth. His soft touches were a sharp juxtaposition to Natasha’s stony looks.

“A few things,” he replied, watching you like a hawk. You still didn’t break eyes with Natasha. “But my absolute favorite is daddy…” He leaned in impossibly closer. You dropped the laundry basket, narrowly missing their toes.

Bucky smoothly kicked it away before speaking again. “Isn’t that right, baby? You love making Daddy happy, don’t you?”

You whimpered and nodded ferociously. Bucky then pushes his thumb past your lips, and you knew exactly what to do.

You begin to suck and he moaned and holy fucking shit you’ve never been so turned on in your entire life.

Natasha rolled her eyes again, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder. It breaks the spell your interaction had cast on the two of you.

“As usual, you’ve turned a cross-examination into some kind of porn shoot,” She backed you into the wall completely, the coldness causing you to gasp. You could feel her body heat on yours, and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch, touch anything. Her soft belly, her scarred shoulders, her plump lips.

“Tell me, Printsessa,” her sultry voice sent shivers down your spine, even more so than the freezing cinderblock wall. “Tell me more about how Bucky boy over there and I treat you different.”

You gulped. Your voice tumbled out of your mouth like boulders down a steep hill: fast, uncontrolled, deadly. “You like to inflict pain, you like impact play, you like toys. So, so many toys…all Bucky does it lightly spank me when… when he’s taking me from behind…likes to hear me moan because of it…he likes to overstimulated me, you like to deny me until I…you both, both of you like it when you make me cry, love making me beg until tears stream down my pretty little face..”

Your hooded eyes flashed to Bucky, who was palming himself through his dark sweatpants. You barely had time to eye his thick cock before Natasha slapped the inside of your thigh, leggings doing nothing to absorb the blow.

She growled out into your ear, “I specifically told you to describe differences, pet. You want me to punish you until you can follow orders?”

You whimpered again, high-pitched moan never making it out of your throat.

Yes, you thought.

“No,” you replied.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, fingers going to wrap around your throat. It was a warning, a shot in the sky instead of straight into your heart.

“No, what?” She hissed through her teeth.

You stumbled over your words as you spoke. “No, mistress. I’m sorry, mistress.”

That’s when Bucky moaned, guttural. It went straight to your aching pussy. “God, you two are gonna ruin porn for me for fucking ever.”

“Shut the fuck up, Barnes.” Natasha’s voice was commanding. It’s the one she uses on missions, or when one of the boys fucks up big time. She was already mad she had to share you, and Bucky’s deep voice might as well been a fucking dog whistle, or nails on a chalkboard.

Her fingers tightened against your throat, her other hand going South. Her nails pressed into your hip bone, and you knew for sure it was going to leave marks. Crescent shaped nail marks, to be exact. Say what you want about Natasha Romanoff, but that girl likes a nice manicure.   
  


“Tell us more, pet” she purred.

Bucky’s metal arm moved across your stomach to keep in you place. When did he move so close? You thought he was…over there? On the side of you? It didn’t matter, you being touched. That’s what mattered.

“And feel free,” his voice was smooth, calm, collected. Gruff. His words were good whiskey. “To talk about anything you want, my precious little one.”

You cry out a little. You were wet, so wet, and all you were doing was talking. What would happen when they touched you? Would you fucking explode? Would the world collapse into itself like a black hole?

You didn’t care what happened. As long as you had them, you’d jump off a cliff. Or out of an airplane without a parachute.

You took a deep breath before you continued. “You both love butt plugs, but nothing farther…and Buc-Daddy, Daddy likes the jeweled ones, his favorite is a pastel pink one in the shape of a heart. Mistress prefers the solid black ones, sometimes if I’m good and she collars me she likes the ones with tails because they match,” your sentences devolved as Natasha started rubbing between your thighs, one of them still stinging. Bucky, who refused to allow anyone to have fun without him, began kissing your neck. “You both love when I ride your face. Once Natasha made me moan to loudly I lost my voice and didn’t get it back to normal until two weeks later. Three days after that Bucky left a bruise so big on my hip I had to cancel yoga with Peter because I could barely move…”

Bucky was the one who cut you off next. “Who made cum the most in a single  night?”

You moan before you answered. His beard scratched against your neck and ear as he spoke. “You, Daddy.”

Natasha reached around and lifted your butt from the wall before spanking you, hard. “What’s the most you’ve cum in one night, pet?”

You wailed at the contact. “Eight, Mistress.”

She smiled. “And who did that to you?”

You were almost crying at that point. “You, Mistress.”

“Who’s made you cum the hardest?” She snarls. It’s animalistic, and hot as fuck.

“You, Mistress,” You cried.

After that the next thing you could comprehend is you, laying on the bed, looking up at the two doms.

You’ve never been more turned on in your entire life. If you thought it was bad in the laundry room, the fire in your belly and the strain in your arms and the almost-incomprehensible pleasure would surely cause you to explode.

“What should we do first?” Natasha questions. Her nails graze the edges of the mask, right below your puffy eyes, and the tense muscles under your chin.

  
Bucky laughs, and palms your bare breast, occasionally pinching at your hardening nipples.“Gimme a sec, Nat, can’t think straight. I’m tryina wrack my spank bank for every single fucking lesbian porn video I’ve ever fucking watched.”

Natasha shakes her head. Her voice drips out of her lips like honey, or poison. Or cum. “Don’t think we’ll be doing all the work, Barnes. I didn’t do this so you could jerk off into a corner while I make our little pet scream for mercy, or more…whichever comes first.”

Your untied thighs press together, searching for some relief. Natasha tsks you, using her strong arms to keep them apart. “No, no, no, little mouse. You know that’s not allowed…pets don’t get rewards until they perform to their master’s standards.”

Bucky huffs, leaning down. He trails kisses down your body. Big, wet, sloppy ones. He only stops to ghost his fingers over your clit. He can’t hear any noise you make because of the mask, but judging by your arching back and screwed-shut eyes, you’re trying to moan. He chuckles a bit, before looking up at Natasha, who’s still standing tall. She’s wearing black, high-waisted lingerie bottoms with a matching bra. It look so good against her creamy skin.

“Don’t listen to her, baby,” you stare straight up at the woman in question while Bucky continues peppering kisses in your sensitive inner thighs, lifting his head up to speak every few pecks. “ Mistress is just mad that she can’t how much fun it is to fuck with you, eat your pussy until you’re squirming away from me, bruise you up until you can barely move, fuck you until you can’t speak. Daddy just loves hearing you whine and cry and scream…loves it when you disobey orders…love making you get yourself off while I just,” he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clit then, and your eyes flutter shut. “Watch.”

“James,” Natasha warns.

You can’t what’s worse: being teased or nothing at all.

Natasha is incredibly possessive. You’re hers, not ever and will never be anyone else’s. It made teasing her easy as all Hell, because she gets worked so fucking easily. Once you just mentioned how an ex of yours gave you ridiculously sexy neck kisses and before you knew it your entire upper body was covered in so many hickies you looked like you had been ravaged by an animal.

In a way, though, you had.

That’s what made her so mad, her watching you get eaten out by one James Buchanan Barnes. She should be the one pleasuring you, not him. Still…it was so hot watching you try to resist him.

It was crazy.

Part of her wanted to rip Bucky off of you and tie him to a chair, or suspend him, or something, anything to keep him from soliciting another moan from you.

The other part of her wanted to just sit back and relax with a good glass of red wine and direct Bucky to do whatever she pleases to you.

Bucky was right, she’d give him that. Finding porn after this was gonna so fucking hard.

Well, maybe, she wonders. I could just film us…and then…

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by your sweet, sweet body about to orgasm. Hard.

“C’mon, baby,” Bucky’s baritone voice seem to vibrate the floorboards. “Cum for Daddy, Baby. You know I love it when you cum for me…”

Even after you cum, he doesn’t stop moving his fingers skillfully in and out of you and kissing around your clit until you find the strength to place your foot on his shoulder and kick him away.

You try to crawl away from him, but Natasha is immediately on top of you, placing one hand on your throat and the other right next to your hip. She means business.

“Did Daddy tell you do that?” She’s asking a question, but everyone in the room already knows the answer. Especially you.

“No,” is all your voice can muster. It’s small, tiny, just like how you feel.

Bucky’s stood up and is licking you off of his fingers. You can see him in your peripheral vision. You don’t make an effort to look at him any more than that, though. Your pupils have to remain trained on Natasha, or else you’re going to be in even more trouble.

Before you can process the switch in doms on top of you, you feel a sharp smack to your inner thigh again.

“No, who? That’s the second time you’ve made that mistake, Pet. I think Daddy being here, pleasuring you like that,” she tightens her grip on your throat and hooks her free hand under the leg you used to push Bucky away. She pushes it up to your chest, leaving your ass vulnerable to her. She then turns to the man in question, who’s currently stroking himself. “Do you think we should punish our little printsessa?”

Bucky rarely punishes you, once he explained he doesn’t really like to. It’s not his thing.

But that preference seems to have been lifted due to Natasha’s presence.

“I think we should Mistress,” he moves closer to you, to the side where your ass is lifted off the bed. “Our Babydoll needs to learn her place…needs to know who’s in charge…”

The mask is gone, now (When did it come off?) but you don’t dare speak again. Can’t talk out of turn if you don’t talk at all.

Your eyes flit between the two, wondering who’s going to make the first swat to your ass.

It’s Natasha who moves you into position: face down, ass up. She runs her dexterous fingers through your folds and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to moan.

Her voice is deep, commanding. “I’m going to give you ten spanks, Pet.”

Bucky speaks next. “And I’m going to give you ten, too, Babydoll.”

He’s never punished you before. Never. It’s so hot, so fucking hot.

“Count ‘em…kitten.” Bucky using Natasha’s nickname for you makes you gasp, but thankfully they both let it go.

Smack. “One, thank you Mistress.”

Smack. “Two, thank you Daddy.”

This goes on for what feels like forever, and by the end your ass is nice and red. Bucky’s metal hand leaves lines across your cheeks, which he traces with featherlight fingertips. The cool metal against your hot skin is an intoxicating feeling.

The teasing isn’t over, though. Natasha flips you over, looming over you. Her smile is sinister, sadistic. Your head is moved into Bucky’s lap, while he pulls your restrained hands above your head again.

Natasha’s voice is soft, and it forces you to pay attention more. It’s normally something dog owners do to make their animal more attuned to their commands.

“Beg, printsessa. Beg for me to touch you.”

Oh, do you beg.

“Please Mistress, I’m begging you to please touch me, make me cum, make me cum until I’m begging you to stop. I wanna feel you, feel both of you. Want you to stretch me out, make me feel you both for days and days, make me miss you when you’re not there…not inside me. Please I’m so fucking wet for you.”

“Well,” she says, moving down your body. She plants random kisses as she descends.

Left nipples. Right third rib. The mole on your tummy. Just below your belly button.

Then she’s there, ghosting over your clit and kissing your sensitive pussy lips.

“My, my kitten. You are wet.”

You try not to make a sound, determined not to get punished another time. Your ass is still so sore, and you know it’s going to hurt to sit for awhile.

Her fingers move expertly in and out of you, knowing when to curve up, spread apart, add another finger. You thrash, rolling your hips, hands nearly escaping Bucky’s grasp a few times.

Oh yeah, Bucky’s here. Holding your hands up. Keeping you behaving. Not touching you at all.

His eyes are locked on Natasha and your pussy. She doesn’t know where to look, your sweet oh face or Bucky’s hungry stare.

Natasha coaxes one, maybe two, maybe three (at this point you can’t tell what’s an orgasm and what’s just a fucking good g-spot stroke) orgasms out of you before Bucky rips off the restraints and is climbing over you. He settles right next to Natasha, who takes the hint and lays down next to you, running her fingers over your body.

You don’t know what’s okay and what’s not, but with Natasha in the room, you know you need to err on the side of caution. That means hands above your head, no noise, no pouting, no nothing. All you can do is bite your lip and hope your teeth don’t meet.

Bucky’s knuckle deep with his first finger before you hear a deep, dark chuckle. “‘S okay, Baby. Mistress may not want you to pull her hair or release a single sweet little moan, but Daddy sure does. Lemme hear it Baby, let it…all…out.”

He punctuates the last few words with little nips to the tops of your thighs, encouraging you to let it all out.

  
You do.

Immediately, your arms stretch before latching both into the hair of the man between your legs. You moan like you’re trying to lose your voice, hugging your legs to your chest to give him a better angle.

This forces Natasha off of your body, but she finds a way to still be attached to you. She sticks fingers into your mouth, and you know what to do. Sucking on your fingers, but it’s still hot as Hell, so Bucky doesn’t make an effort to stop it.

His five o’clock shadow scratches you, which is especially painful on your sensitive thighs. Still, it all feels so good. If this is Heaven, you’d happily convert to Christianity to ensure your safe return. It feels different than the first time he ate you out. Hungrier, sexier. It’s beautiful, like a work of Renaissance art.

Before you know it, his cock replaces his tongue. It’s thick, veiny, perfect. You’ve had it inside of you before, but this time…this time it’s different. More intense.

Bucky is slamming in and out of you so hard you’re sure there will be intense bruising on your pelvis.

Natasha slips from your side and onto your face, riding it with reckless abandon, your head locked between her toned thighs.

It’s insane. Your body is completely at their whim.

Occasionally, one of them will play with your nipples or rub your clit or press on a bruise or scratch down (or up) your tummy, sending even more shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Every time you moan, it sends sweet vibrations through Natasha’s pussy, causing her to squeeze your head with her legs. You feel trapped, caged. It’s amazing.

“Fuck,” Bucky moans. “I’m gonna cum, Baby. Love your pussy so fucking much…keep clenching around me, Baby, don’t stop licking your Mistress…fuck.”

With that, he cums inside of you. The other two of you cum shortly after, bodies shaking furiously as you do so.

You’re gasping for breath, body aching all over. It’s a good ache, like after an intense yoga or pilates session. An accomplished ache. A fuck yeah, I just got fucked so fucking hard type of ache.

It feels good, so good.

Natasha takes the lead in the aftercare. Bucky stays next to you, whispering sweet words into your ear while he lifts you up and into a comfy chair on the far end of the room.

They work in fluid motions, like they’re dancing, or taking care of something complicated mission. Natasha strips the sheets, Bucky leaves you to replace them. The second you start whining about being alone like some angsty puppy, Natasha waits for Bucky to place you back on the bed before feeding you a protein bar (lemon, your favorite). When you’ve successfully chewed a few bites, she hands it to Bucky, while she tosses the used toys in a large container next to the tub, a reminder for later to make sure she cleans them.

You’re dead tired, unable to do anything for yourself. They sandwich you between them and mumble praises into your sweat-drenched hair, your sore shoulders, your abused chest. It’s nice, sweet. Makes you come down from your high nice and easy, right into a deep slumber.

They shift you around into a more comfortable position, a heavy silence falling over you three before Bucky speaks, because of course he does.

“Do you think we’ll ever do this again?” Bucky asks.

You’re tucked into his side, with Natasha draped across you protectively. He snakes his opposite arm across his chest to stroke your arm with his fingertips. You’d be overly warm if you weren’t totally naked.

Natasha leans into your shoulder, leaving a light kiss on a bruise she’s not sure who created. “Yeah, totally. As long as she,” she angles her head to gesture to you. “Wants it.”

Bucky smiles. “I think she will.”


	2. bite of fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> natasha, usually a very strict dom, plays by bucky’s more lax rules for once

The wall is cold against your back. The tank top you’re wearing is almost ridiculously thin, showing off your black, lace bralette along with her bruised and scraped skin (unfortunately, it wasn’t a lover, it was from the last mission you’d been on just a few weeks ago). Your shorts are, well, short. And as thing as the tank top. They expose the back of your thighs and ass to the coolness, too. The shock makes you gasp, and Bucky takes the moment to stick his tongue down your throat. Then he moves his mouth down to your neck, sucking and nipping at it. His flesh hand moves from massaging your breasts to down your sleep shorts. It’s good,  _so good_. Your shaky fingers are tracing his abs and lightly scratching at them, moving across his sculpted body.

A moan slips from past your lips, mixing with the other occasional wet noises from his fingers inside of you and his “Oh, fuck, Baby…”s and yours “Daddy  _please_ ”s.

You’ve just gotten Bucky’s deep blue flannel off and tossed to the floor when you hear another familiar voice pierce through the air. It’s sharp, pointed. It cuts through the sex-thick air like a heated knife through softened butter.

“Well, well, well…looks like the two horniest people on this side of the globe finally found each other again,” the appearance of your favorite redhead forces another moan out of you. Or maybe that was just Bucky biting playfully at your neck. Either way, this is the first time you’ve seen the two of them in an intimate setting since the  _incident_ , and the endless possibilities of what’s about to happen to you is getting you hornier than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Nat…” you start to whisper out, but you can’t finish before Bucky growls possessively into your ear.  _No_ , he wants to scream. _This is_ my  _time to ruin her._  He’s about to cuss Natasha out, but then he realizes that this could be…fun.

His tense muscles soften, and he looks up to meet your eyes “You want her to join us, baby? Or do you want to have some fun while she watches us?”

You try to answer, but the words just can’t seem to form correctly. They’re caught in your throat, the heat of the moment forcing them own. As you struggle to speak, Bucky slaps your ass aggressively. Before he can chastise you, though, the other Russian speaks up.

“Daddy asked you a question,  _kitten_ ,” Natasha says plainly, taking her black stilettos off and sitting on the bed. She’s got a full glass of red wine and is wearing some extremely tight black cocktail dress, because of course she is. She’s Natasha Romanoff. Spy, assassin, femdom, and boss ass bitch. If anyone was going to be wearing fuck-me heels with a “your girlfriend calls me Daddy, too” dress, it would be her. It’s late, she might’ve been at a party, or she knew this was happening and wanted to show - once again - that she can outperform Bucky in every way, including style, any day.

Bucky speaks to you in a voice you’ve never heard before. It’s carnal, guttural, commanding.“Yeah, darlin’. Use your words, just like Daddy taught you.”

Nodding, you look at Bucky through hooded eyes. You pant as you speak, chest heaving with the effort. “Yes, Daddy. Want Mistress to watch us fuck, want her to see that I’m your little one,  _why_ I’m  _your_ precious brat. Want her to watch me cum over and over and  _over_ again, watch you make me fall apart. Want her to watch us…”

Bucky’s face makes it look like he came just from your words, while Natasha’s face hosts a wicked, sinister smile. They make eye contact for a second, and the pair seem to communicate via some secret Russian assassin language. You’ve seen them like this on missions, able to do things without so much as a second look. It’s like ballet, they way they artfully move with each other and can predict the other’s actions.

“Jump, baby,” Bucky commands. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

You comply without hesitation. He carries you over to the bed, artfully avoiding his fallen shirt and Natasha herself. She moves, too, giving you and Bucky more space. Looking around, she notices a desk chair near the other side of the room and pulls it to the edge of the bed, resting her feet on the disheveled comforter. She’s comfortable, practiced, exquisite. It’s like she patiently waiting for her turn, her time.  Natasha bites her bottom lip and she watches you and Bucky move. If those two are ballet, you and Bucky are a jazz symphony. Spontaneous and crazy, but beautiful nonetheless.

As Bucky slowly strips you of your tank top, you start to whine pathetically. “Daddy  _please_.”

The man in question snaps the strap of your bra against your skin. “I told you to use your words, baby,” He tells you. “You gotta tell Daddy what you want. Can’t fulfill your dreams if I don’t know what they are…”

“How poetic,” You hear Natasha’s sarcastic (maybe? Sometimes you can’t tell when she’s being serious or not) comment but don’t have the focus to look at her. She wants a power struggle, it gets her off. Wants to see how Bucky does under the added pressure to perform that she was too distracted to induce last time.

“Please, Daddy. I want you to make me moan and cum in front of Mistress, just like I said before. Show her how good I can be for you Daddy. Want you to fuck me til you cum in my tight little pussy and then clean it out of my swollen cunt. Just love your tongue and dick, Daddy…”

He smirks, grabbing one of your breasts and your mound with fever. “Your wish is my command, my dear.”

Bucky teases over your outer lips with a feather-light touch. You automatically clench around absolutely nothing, hoping somehow it would pull his fingers to you like your pussy was some kind of alluring, sexual black hole. That the action will force him to gravitate to your core. You can’t tell what he’s doing, but you absolutely fucking hate it. You came here to get fucked, and now all you’re getting is him treating you like some sort of virgin made of porcelain.

Natasha notices this instantly. “Tsk, tsk, kitten. Good girls are patient, you know this.”

Bucky smirks, suddenly plunging two fingers into your heat. You’re wet, have been since Bucky slapped your ass back upstairs in the common room - before he dragged you down here to his room. It makes you cry out, grabbing at something, anything.“Mistress is right, baby. What should we do, should we punish her for her insolence?”

“Hmm,” Natasha sips at her glass, contemplating. As the last of the liquid hits her throat, she quietly places it on the nightstand. It sits next to Bucky’s old-fashioned alarm clock and your panties. If you ever commissioned an oil painting, it’d be of that. The dark red of your soaked underwear matches the lipstick stain on the glass and the accents on Bucky’s alarm. It’s…art. It’s a moment of unexplained beauty that grounds you unlike anything before. “This may not really be a punishment, but I think that I should sit on our pretty little pet’s face while you fuck her adorable little pussy.”

A high-pitched whine escapes your throat. Natasha sitting on your face while Bucky fucks you? That’s it, you’ve peaked. Life just couldn’t get better than this. If you died right after Bucky and Natasha both cum on you, it’d be fine. Nothing could compare to whatever they’re about to make you feel, make you do. Lord above, just imagine the Medical Examiner’s report. OFFICIAL CAUSE OF DEATH: BEING FUCKED BY THE TWO HOTTEST PEOPLE ALIVE AT THE SAME TIME.

You nod frantically, but as Natasha starts to pull away to tug her dress off herself, you immediately protest. “Mistress  _please_ let me, let me do it for you. I’ll be so  _good_ just  _please_ ,” You beg, attempting to make your grabby hands as cute as possible so you can push at the skirt of Natasha’s dress.

Ever the loving fuck buddy, Natasha obliges with your request. She allows you to shed her clothes (which is unusually hard due to your position on your back - have you ever tried to unzip something while laying down?), but makes you keep her panties and bra on. It’s torture, the simple black matching set against her creamy skin is making you want to explode. You just wanted to claw and bite at it until she was nothing but heaving and pleased, all her being able to do is mumble praises and stroke your hair.

Bucky slowly fingerfucks you with his metal hand while his flesh one rests over your stomach to keep you pinned down. Normally it’d be the other way around, the heavier arm doing the pinning. But the new arm he’d gotten recently was engineered to be kept cold, to make sure Bucky didn’t die from literally cooking. The cold fingers cause quick, tiny gasps to leave you. The temperature play torments you, almost makes you start crying.

It gets worse when Natasha situates herself over your face, but doesn’t lower down. At one point you try to lift yourself up, but then she forces you back down. “Wait, pet.”

So you do. You lay, pliant and ready to please, on the slightly wrinkled white sheets. When her pussy finally makes contact with your lips, you swear you’re in heaven. She’s facing away from Bucky, giving you full access to her full breasts - which she grants you easily. You allow yourself sometimes to tease her through her panties so you can use both hands to roam her muscular body. It’s a treat, something she rarely lets you do. You guess Bucky being there is making her more lenient, more willing to give you some space to decide what you want to do.

Speaking of the Devil, Bucky takes that moment to start eating  _you_ out. That man loves pussy, especially yours. Before him (and Natasha), you were a little insecure about how fat and puffy your cunt was. But it took a few fuck sessions for you to fully appreciate the advantages of a…fuller..vulva. It felt like Bucky’s whole face, especially his stubble, was on you. And it feels  _fantastic_. Good lord, where would you be without that man.

Soon, the room is full of the wet sounds of pussy-eating along with Natasha’s deep moans. She’s grinding against your face with vigor, and you’re matching her thrust for thrust on Bucky’s. It’s euphoric, you’re in absolute heaven. In all honesty, no porn video had come even  _close_ to measuring up to the last threesome you’d had with them. Before, you’d previously been able to release all this sexual frustration with fifteen minutes, a vibrator, and some amatuer lesbian video and you’d be good to go. But now nothing seemed to do the trick. You’d even started paying for loads of custom content, hoping that would work. But no, nothing could even come  _close_ to replacing the two of them.

“Oh, god, oh fuck  _kitten_ ,” Natasha moans. She’s reaching for the one hand that rested on her hip and grabs it, clutching and squeezing it with both of hers. It hurts, and you welcome it. “Gonna make Mistress cum all over your pretty little face? Oh  _fuck_ ,”

She’s just rutting now, and Bucky takes that as his cue to make you cum, too. Now he’s got four fingers pumping in and out of you in rapid succession, with his other hand circling your clit. As you release louder and louder moans, they make Natasha’s pussy vibrate and quiver.

It’s the moan you make when Bucky makes you cum, though, that’s really her undoing. The gush of fluids on your face is like fresh wine; fresh as spring, fresh as holy water. You drink it like it’s your last meal.

Nothing stops, though. No moment to rest, not when Bucky’s rock hard against his stomach. The poor thing is red from rubbing against the sheets while he devoured you. Natasha moves off of you for a moment to give you a breather, but, more importantly, to get her legs a rest. As Bucky slowly inches his way into you, Natasha watches you both like a hawk. Just sits back, watching you move and react to Bucky and watching Bucky move and react to you. It’s awe-inspiring, and so, so hot. Her fingers trail over the bruises, your swollen lips, your hairline.

His thrusts are fast, deep, purposeful. Bucky’s got both hands on your hips, guiding you in smooth motions. “Fuck, love that, don’t you baby girl? Loved getting fucked by Daddy? Bet you’re not gonna be able to walk properly tomorrow are you, huh?”

You shake your head, noises that seem to be like a cross between a hiccup, a squeak, and a moan leave your lips in rapid succession. That’s when Natasha gets the most  _perfect_ idea.

“Hey, baby,” she coos to you, “Try to focus on Mistress for a moment, okay?”

Your hooded, glassy eyes take a moment to meet hers. Bucky doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Just keeps plowing you.

“Is it okay if Mistress chokes you?” She asks, carefully tracing your collarbones with her fingers. You can barely whisper out a “Yes, Mistress,” but that’s good enough for her. She slowly wraps her right hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. If you thought your brain was hazy before, you were wrong. Now, now everything is hazy and blurry and  _godlike_. The only things that exist in this whole universe are you, Bucky, and Natasha. Nothing else matters, nothing else needs to. All you need to care about is  _them_.

It’s not long before you’re cumming again. This one is different than the first, less shocking. It does make your eyes roll back into your head, hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

With your walls clenching around him and the sight of Natasha choking you, Bucky’s gone for. He cums buried deep inside you, jaw hanging open. He’s panting like a dog and sweating like a pig. When he’s done, he doesn’t collapse like most of the guys you fucked in college, though. He pulls out and braces himself over you, leaning in for a tender kiss. Natasha has since left your side, off to do God knows what. It’s a tender moment between you and him, with Bucky peppering kisses all over your face and jaw. It elicits a small giggle as his stubble tickles you.

“Mmm” is all he can say as he stands up, off to lie next to you in the bed. That’s when Natasha makes her reappearance with a bottle of water for Bucky and a hair tie for herself. Wait, why would she need a hair tie..?

Then she drags you by the ankle to the end of the bed and leans on her knees on the plush, dark carpet. As Bucky’s cum drips out of you, she smears it over your lower half. It’s a massage mixed with cum play and-

Oh.

“Gotta get at least one orgasm out of you, pet. Can’t have Daddy thinkin’ he’s the shit or something,” she mumbles between kisses that she lays just under your belly button, hands bracing on both of your thighs inner, soft, more sensitive skin. “You can go another time, can’t you?”

Your voice is strained. It hurts, oh god it hurts when she touches you, but you want to be good for her. Want to show Bucky what she does to you. “Yes, Mistress.”

She nips at your left thigh. “Good.”

Natasha knows you’re worn out, so she starts slow; Small kisses to your outer lips. Tracing around your clit with a finger tip. When you stop crying out loudly every time she makes contact, she takes it as her time to go full force. Soon, she’s fucking you as deep as she can go with her fingers and tongue, nose bumping against your swollen clit.

“M-mommy,” you try to get out. It’s hard between the breathless moans and panting, though. Bucky’s palming one breast with his metal hand and is propping himself up with his flesh one. It’s so relaxed, it makes him seem almost too calm for the situation at hand. “Please, can I,” you gulp. Natasha still doesn’t stop. “Can I please pull your hair?”

Natasha stops aggressively sucking on your clit long enough to say, “Of course, pet.”

You tangle your twitching fingers in her fire red hair. It’s all you can do not to lose your mind there and then, an attempt to ground yourself. It barely works, because soon you’re cumming  _again_. You scream this time, Natasha finger-fucking you through it. Soon, you’re trying to push her away. You’re over sensitive, but she knows that perfectly well. She knows that she wants to _torture you_. So she keeps hitting your g-spot with her fingers and frantically flicking her pointed tongue over your clit.

Your fourth orgasm cums quickly, and that’s the one that almost knocks you out. Your body slumps against the bed, twitching every once and awhile.

Satisfied, Natasha ceases her ministrations. You vaguely hear her tell Bucky to get you some water and a damp towel, and you can kind of feel something cold wipe over your forehead and down your body. The only thing you can really register is when Natasha curls you into her, and then Bucky spooning you from behind. Instinctively, you make a small happy sound. It sounds like a cat chirping.

Natasha strokes your hair while Bucky uses his metal arm to make random circles on your hip. The movements lull you to sleep quickly, your once-frantic mind now reduced to complete static.

Right before you slip into sleep, you can feel Natasha kiss your forehead and then Bucky kiss the back of your neck. “Goodnight sweet thing,” one of them whispers. You’re not sure which one. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter.

Once Natasha confirms your unconscious state, she speaks quietly. “Next time, it’s my turn.”

Bucky laughs breathily, trying not to wake you. Honestly, you’re sleeping so deeply he doesn’t think another alien invasion could wake you. “What do you mean by that?”

Natasha smirks, kissing the top of your head. “Oh, you’ll see.”


	3. across a minefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last of this series. bucky joins in on natasha’s favorite thing to play: you

Where everything you and Bucky did together was spontaneous, scenes with Natasha took a little more planning. This included preparation of toys, possible rearrangement of furniture, maybe instructing you what to wear. Most people didn’t like to plan  _when_ they had sex, they just wanted it to happen. But Natasha - a woman with a tight schedule, a work and home life that bled together so often they often became one, and a desperate need for control - struggled to unplug from everything else in the world without warning. She always needs time to mentally prepare herself for whatever she was planning to do to you, with you, for you. So, when you got the text the morning of one of Tony’s parties that was as ominous as she is, you buzzed with excitement.

It was simple, precise:

_No panties tonight. My room at 22 hours. Do not be late, pet._

That day, she was training new recruits. You were requested to help Clint with some new bow he was trying out. Therefore, neither of you saw each other all day. Maybe this was part of her plan, to make sure the temptation and eagerness built up in you like a volcano waiting to burst.

It seemed more like something she specifically construed once you actually get to the party. Both of you were too busy trying to butter up donors and MIT alumni and whathaveyou to exchange any more than curt nods and the tips of glasses. You were stuck only being able to stare longingly, and damn, did she give you a lot to look at.

The sparkly floor-length black gown hugged her in ways you never thought was physically possible for fabric. It was sleeveless, and her skin contrasted well with the sharp lines of the dress. Her hair was loose, slightly curly. The dark makeup she had on made you want to kiss her just so you could mess it up. You wanted to leave kisses along her collarbones, down each arm until you could suck on her soft fingertips, feel the sharp black nails rub against the pink of your inner lips. Her black stilettos -  _the same ones she was wearing when she walked in on you and Bucky_  - clicked against the tile as she walked around, jovially greeting guests and inviting them to look at the new technology or whatever.

The buzz of the party was loud and the all-black dress code made the crowd stick together as if they were a pack of zebras and you were a lion, but somehow she stuck out to you. The loud, sharp clicks of her shoes made it easy to mentally follow her around the place, tracing her footsteps like some kind of lovesick stalker.

Your own dress felt plain in comparison to her. Yours was short, hitting the middle of your thighs. It was black, like hers and everyone else’s attire at the party. It had this cape-thing that flowed behind you and made you seem more dramatic than you felt. A stylist had come a few weeks before, and Wanda ended up helping you pick it out.

“To show off your legs,” she told you with a wink. All you heard was, “ _to give Nat easy access_.”

Thinking back you question how she could’ve predicted that, how she could’ve known you were hoping to get some that night.

Oh, right…mind reader

The rest of the night passes in a flurry, the only highlights being when you get a peak of Natasha laughing or when Bucky comes behind you to rest his arm on your waist. At first you thought it was protective (you do have a pair of damn good legs, and a lot of men here are single, sexy nerds just looking to get some Avenger pussy), but the third time it happened you figured it out. It was a warning, a reference to future behavior.

That, and because he whispered, “ _See you tonight at 10:00, babygirl_ ,” seductively in your ear. Plus the countdown he occasionally taunted you with.

“Two hours, darling.”

“Just an hour and fifteen minute, baby.”

“Down to forty-five minutes, doll.”

“Only ten minutes left…do you think you can make it?”

Damn does that man know how to build anticipation. Natasha seemed to be aware of your little game, smirking every time she caught you with Bucky looming behind or next you. You felt just like you did that first time in the laundry room: a trapped animal sure of their own doomed fate. “Doom” seemed like the wrong word, though. Persephone was only ruined and damaged in the eyes of her mother; in reality she was now the wife to an extremely influential god and got to assistant in ruling the Underworld. Just like her, others probably thought you lost all control when you submitted to the powers of the seemingly-cataclysmic people you love. In truth, all you did was  _gain_. You gain love, trust, autonomy.  

The minute the clock on your phone struck 10, you ran like Cinderella to Natasha’s room. You open the door carefully, finding Natasha and Bucky chatting over half-empty drinks. Bucky was leaning against the dark oak desk, Natasha was sitting on the plush carpet you two had fucked on no less than five (5) times.

It takes a second for them to acknowledge you as you stand tall (or attempt to) in front of the now-closed door. Them treating you like this always makes you knees weak. Like they’re completely indifferent to you, or you’re an object, or you’re only to seen when they feel like it.

This, and everything this entails, is what Natasha loves best. One you stepped into the room, you’re all hers. Hers to control, hers to destroy, hers to protect.

Natasha stands languidly, easily.

“Strip and get into position,” she tells you. Easily, you take your own dress and underwear off before you lower yourself to the ground. Your legs are folded under you and your hands are placed on your thighs, fingertips pointed to your knees. Head lowered so that you’re looking at the piece of ground right before her feet.

“Look up,” she tells you. As you do, you see her pulling a makeup wipe out of a container on her nightstand. You can tell she’s been planning this for awhile and thought ahead to everything you’d need: your favorite cucumber and shea butter makeup wipes, the cookies you love during aftercare, an extra set of clothes for when you’re done, a large bottle of lube. It’s sweet, the way she takes care of you like this.

The cool wipe slowly strips you of the light makeup you had on with ease. You remain pliant and calm as Natasha turns your head side to side to make sure she got all of it off, knowing any movement could warrant punishment. This is her time to make sure you’re in the right mindset to do this, make sure all you can think about is whatever she  _makes_ you think about.

By now, Bucky sort of understands what she’s doing. He’s not used to doing things like, your fuck sessions had always been fire lit with reckless abandon. The whole world was his playground, and he intended to  _play_. This, though, is different. He watches Natasha’s careful actions with purpose. It feels like he’s witnessing something special, secret; an intimate moment no one else has ever witnessed.

“Stand,” Natasha tells you once she’s sure she’s finished. You stand. “Unzip me,” Softly, careful to make sure none of her loose hair gets caught, you unzip the long dress. It falls to the floor and she kicks it away leaving the surely expensive item in a heap. She’s still in her lingerie. “Good, pet,” she says, stroking the side of your face. Then she leaves you momentarily, moving towards the mini fridge that’s near her bed. When she turns around, you see that she’s got a water bottle. “Back into position,” she says as she opens it. You go back to the floor As soon as you’re settled, she holds the liquid up to your lips. “Drink,” she commands. You only stop when she tips it back from your lips, and by then it’s half empty. You can feel its coolness travel down your throat and into your belly, chilling the heated feeling that seems to cook your belly. Out of the corner of Natasha’s eye, she can see Bucky looking a little confused. He got the makeup wipes…but why this?  “She didn’t drink much water during the party…” she explains calmly. “I need to make sure she’s hydrated.”

She puts the bottle back in the fridge, then turns back to you…just to look. To watch you be good for her. It’s her biggest - and favorite - stress-reliever. It’s a breath of fresh air for her. Nine out of ten days are spent trying to wrangle grown-ass men that act like children, and those are just the scientists and donors and trainers and government hacks and whatever else Tony tortures you with. That doesn’t even count the Avengers themselves, who all seem to be wildly childish for a job she was bred for. “You’re so good for me baby,” she coos as she steps closer to you. Your hearts thuds in your chest in anticipation. “I’m so proud of you…remember the first time we did this together. You were so scared, and so  _bad_. Had to  _punish_ that out of you. Training is so hard,” she muses. “But it’s so worth it in the end…”

You want to moan but you stay quiet. Natasha’s taught you better than that, spanked you until you better than that.

“Up on the bed, pet,” she instructs. “On your back.”

You happily oblige, legs and arms spread out a little. She crawls onto the bed, sitting cross-legged next to you. Bucky now sits in the same plush chair you sat in the first time you did this with them. He’s got it pushed more to the side of the bed, though. He wants a good view of the show you and Natasha were putting on. Last time only made his Porn Pickiness worse. Bucky truly hasn’t been able to rub one out without feeling so ridiculously unsatisfied in so long he constantly thinks he could drop dead any second. Plus, the excitement of watching you and Natasha do  _whatever_ this is for the first time is making his bones vibrate.

Natasha runs her hands up and down your body; squeezing your breasts, tracing your ribs, massaging your thighs. The movements are purposeful, like she’s inspecting you. It seems she’s checked every inch of you before her fingers dip between your thighs. She’s seeing how wet you are, and it’s torture. Additionally -since you’ve been waiting for this since you got her text this morning -you’re absolutely soaked. You don’t you’ve been this wet since you paid off your student loans last year.

“Ooh,” she purrs. “You’re dripping, utterly  _dripping_ for me.”

You’re now desperately trying to hold back and not move, but it’s  _so fucking hard_. She turns her head to face Bucky’s, who’s literally sitting on the edge of his seat. “Get the pink rope from the second drawer from the top in my bathroom.”

Bucky nods curtly and goes to fetch the special BDSM rope she bought especially for you. It was a gift, presented to you after too many panties were destroyed. Every time you use it, she tells you the pale pink looks mouth-watering against your skin. How she could just  _eat you up_.

Slowly but surely, Natasha ties your legs in a bent position and then ties your wrists together. After making sure it’s not too tight, she asks your color.

“Green,” you grin.

She smiles, too. “Good.”

You beam under the praise, always wanting more. The words that tumble past her lips are the most addicting drug you’ve ever tried, and - like other substances - no amount ever seems good enough. As she stands over you, you start to melt under her gaze. You just want this so bad and she’s just looking at you and holy Jesus you’re so  _horny_. Natasha sees this and takes a small amount of pity on you. “You may speak, kitten.”

“Thank you Mistress,” you gasp out before you  “Please touch me,  _please_. All I want is for you to  _touch me_.”

“Bucky,” she barks while still looking at you. His head snaps up, almost too busy staring at you all hog-tied and whatnot to notice anything Natasha does. In truth, he’d never really had the patience for this kind of stuff…but now he really sees the appeal.  “C’mere and help me flip our little kitten over onto her stomach.”

Your body and cunt flutter as you’re placed on your stomach and arms are tucked under you. The whole time, you bite your lip harshly to stave off another moan that threatens to leave your throat. Being manhandled like this is a dream come true, it makes you feel so  _small_ and  _helpless_. You’re happy you could cry. But, if you make a sound without permission, you’ll be punished. They’re painful normally, but you know Bucky being here is making her harsher,  _stricter_ than when you’re alone. At one point, she spanked you until your ass bled. You’re assuming whatever Bucky could make you do wouldn’t outweigh  _that_ again.

Once you’re positioned, you can see Natasha’s underwear fall to the floor. Then you feel her fingers dance over you again. “Hm…what should we do to our little kitten, Bucky?”

Bucky laughs huskily. “Kinda wanna just fuck her tight little cunt, make her scream.”

Natasha chuckles a little, too. “Then that you shall do.” She pulls you up by your hair and places you on your elbows, making it easier to for Bucky to access your back or neck if he so pleased. “Be good for our little Bucky boy, can you do that for me?”

All you can do is nod as Bucky enters you. You smash your lip between your teeth as he slides in and out of you, making them more raw with each passing minute. His thick hands on your hips make it even more sensual, you feel like all you ever need to do is lost in the slap of skin for all the previous agony to be worth it.

As you grip the sheets as best you can with your bound wrists, you almost don’t notice Natasha put on the strapon. It’s your favorite, a black average silicon one with little ridges and cute little sparkles baked into it. She bought it from someone who makes them special, which made you almost crumble when she presented it to you. That was her dirty little secret. It wasn’t that she was a total domme, it was that she cared  _so much_ about you. Emotions have never been her talent, but with you they seemed to come naturally.

She balances on her knees in front of you, pulling you up by your hair. Your eyes have glazed over, tears run freely down your face as Bucky continues to fuck you. He softens his thrusts a little bit so Natasha can grab hold of your slack jaw.  
  


“Open up, darling,” she coos, slowly inching the cock into your mouth. Wordlessly, you take all of it. As it hits the back you gag a little, but Natasha still forces it down your throat. “Take all of my cock.”

Now you’re being spit-roasted, each of Bucky’s thrusts forcing you to take more of Natasha. It’s an inescapable rhythm that has you getting wetter by the second. You can feel your own juices dripping down your shaking thighs and your spit trail down your neck. The liquids add to your sweat, creating a sheen layer of filth that has you feeling like the disgusting whore you are.

Natasha, noticing your mind slipping from the moment, gives you a break (on her end, at least). She pulls the dick out of your mouth, and gestures to Bucky that she wants to do something a little different.

“Have you ever done wax play, Bucky?” She doesn’t look at him while he speaks, instead she pulls your hair away from your back with a hair tie she grabs from the nightstand.

Bucky shakes his head. “What were you thinking?”

You can’t see her - the tears cloud your vision  _way_ too much for that - but you’re sure she’s flashing that signature devilish grin. Before you can process it, you’re on the ground again. The position you’re in is similar to before, but your legs are a little further apart and your hands are placed between them. The rope digs a little into your ass, which seems to ground you enough to see her grab a lighter and candles from a drawer in the desk.

As she lights one and lets it burn a little, Natasha’s voice is as stern as ever. “I want to see how long you can stand this,” you shiver a little. This is something you’ve only done once before, and it ended with you screeching your safe word after the first drop hit your skin. “For every minute until you say that you’re red, you get an orgasm.”

Now this, this is something Natasha  _definitely_ thought of ahead of time. You’re so sensitive one tap to your clit could have you squirting, what would happen if Bucky and Natasha really worked to please you. Once a few are lit, she places them on the ground in front of you so you can watch them burn and she can take the strapon off. Bucky follows suit, now standing in front of you, too. It’s the first time you’ve really been able to look at him since Natasha made you lie on the bed. He’s naked, completely and utterly so. His hair is messy, sweaty, perfect. God, you want to touch him so badly.

All too soon, the candles are completely melted. Natasha picks one up and blows it out, handing it to Bucky. “Pour this down her back  _slowly_ and  _carefully_.”  
  


Bucky nods, a little hesitant. He trusts Natasha, though, so he does as he’s told. Slowly, carefully - just as Natasha said - the wax drips down your spine. Each time the hot wax makes contact with your skin, it causes you to gasp and squirm a little. There’s nothing you can really do, though, since your arms and legs are tied up. Natasha finds it cute, the way you attempt to twist and contort your body to inch away from the pain.

“Good girl…you’re so good for me, you know that?” she coos, petting your hair. You lean into her touch, which she happily gives you. Natasha then grabs a second candle. She pushes your shoulders back a little, your hunched back now curved the other way.

The wax drip, drip, drips down between your breasts and down your sternum. The skin there is a little more sensitive, so a few more gasps and hiccups of slight pain. Bucky and Natasha both stand over you, watching you wordlessly. In all, there are exactly five candles. When the last one is about to be poured over you, Natasha suddenly changes her mind.

Her tone is sultry, almost suspicious.“Bucky, why don’t you do the honors in finishing our little girl off with this last one?”

He takes it, a little hesitant. Wax currently covers your chest, stomach, back, shoulders, arms, forearms. The only part of your body that’s been untouched is your thighs. Easily, he readjusts you so that your legs stick out a little bit, with your still-bound arms limp between them. Natasha holds your head back with her fist in her hair, the ponytail-esque thing she created before now resembling an extremely messy bun. Her fingers clutch the scalp under it, massaging every so often.

God, you’re so spent. It shows, too. Your thighs quiver, waiting for sting of the hot wax. As Bucky pours it over you, letting it coat each leg equally, Natasha’s crouches down next to your face. She leaves light kisses along your jaw, eyebrows, nose, whatever she can reach. When Bucky’s finished, he sits on the floor on the other side of you.

They have the same thought simultaneously, because of course they do. Bucky and Natasha take turns praising you.

“I’ve never seen you do that before…I’m so  _proud_ of you, pet,” Natasha coos before kissing at your hairline.

Bucky traces up and down your arms. “God, you looked so hot doing this doll…I’m so happy with you…”

After the last of the wax has hardened, Natasha stands up while Bucky stays next to you. You’re slumped into him, your legs seemingly seconds from completely giving out. Soon, Natasha comes back with one of those large, wireless Hitachi wands. When it lands in your field of blurry vision, you could almost cry. You’ve been aching and quivering and just  _begging_ to cum this entire time…you have absolutely no idea what it’s going to feel like when you finally get what you want.

“Feel free to make any noise you want, kitten,” Natasha whispers as she turns it on. Immediately, your body starts convulsing. It feels like there’s a forest fire inside of you, like after this some old part of you will be burned away and reborn in the process. Bucky stills anchors you and holds you upright while Natasha mouth at your neck. Your senses are filled with them, and no matter how much you moan or cry out, neither of them remove themselves from you. It doesn’t take long for you to orgamsm, the waves of pleasure ripping through you like a scythe.

“ _Please_ Mistress please  _make it stop_  I can’t take it I just  _can’t_ just  _please_ Daddy please make Mistress,” is all you can ramble out. Your brain is completely fried, utterly useless. It hurts you to move, to breathe, to squirm, to do  _anything_.

As Bucky mumbles praises into your ears, Natasha slowly unties all the ropes. She rubs that lavender lotion you and her love so much into your red and indented skin.  Some of the wax comes off in the process, but she’s careful to just rip it off of your skin (or body hair, for that matter). 

She can tell you’re totally done for, brain drifting somewhere else. “Stay here with her while I draw a bath,” she tells Bucky.

“What are we going to do about the wax?” Bucky asks, tucking you into his chest.

You can practically  _hear_ Natasha roll her eyes. “They’re massage candles, you idiot. They just come off with warm water, body wash, and a loofah.”

Bucky mumbles a small “oh,” which causes you to laugh a little. Slowly but surely, you come back to life. You’re dead tired, but now you’re present in the room (or, as present as someone in your situation could be). It makes Bucky smile a little.

When the bath is fully drawn, Natasha gets down to work. If sex is her specialty, then aftercare is her side hustle.

“Do you want a bath bomb?” she calls from still in the bathroom.

You nod.

“Yes!” Bucky yells back.

“Rose petals?”

You nod again.

“Yes.”

He can hear some shuffling, the Natasha appears in the doorway in just a robe. “Bring her in.”

Bucky complies, picking you up bridal style. When he steps across the threshold into the expansive bathroom, he huffs out a laugh. “Bubbles?”

Natasha replies plainly. “She likes them.”

As he lowers you into the large tub, you sigh loudly and babble like a baby who’s been laid for a nap after an exhausting day. Immediately, you start to grab for Natasha and Bucky.

“You want us to come in with you?” Natasha asks. You coo again, nodding happily.

Without hesitation, both Bucky and Natasha join you. It causes a few bubbles and petals to fall out of the tub, but Natasha doesn’t mind at all. Her entire focus is on you, and you only.

You rest with your back to Natasha’s chest and your feet tucked under Bucky’s folded legs. At one point, he picks them up and start to massage them, an action that makes you moan in pleasure. “They’re a little stiff, aren’t they?” he asks as he digs his thumbs into your heel.

All you can is groan out a noise that sounds vaguely like a “yes.” You’re teetering on the the edge of sleep, and Natasha using an extra-soft loofah to rub your down isn’t exactly making it easy to stay awake. She’s finished with both of your arms when you finally fall asleep. Silence settles over the room as the bubbles die down and the water cools. Once all of the wax has been removed and your hair has been washed, Bucky drains the tub while Natasha picks you up and bundles in one of Natasha’s ridiculously fluffy towels she special orders.

Obviously too tired to do anything or yourself, you let her dry you off and dress you in the clothes she set aside for you. It’s one of her t-shirts and a pair of loose boxers. By then, a still-naked Bucky has joined you. He sees you’re curled into Natasha’s soft, squishy chest and curls up behind you. You coo at the warmth of both of their bodies.

Bucky waits until you’re asleep again to whisper to Natasha. “You never came…did you?”

Natasha smirks and looks down at you while she answers. “It’s not really about cumming in situations like this…”

In truth, Bucky has absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, or what she means. He’s too tired to dig further, though, so he just lets your slow and even breathing lull him into the deepest sleep he’s had in months.


End file.
